Long Try Poems
Long Try Poems. Below are the most popular long Try by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Try poems by poem length and keyword.
A broken heart is often born of anger and neglect
and should be treated lovingly with honor and respect.
The gentlest brush of fingertips across a tear stained cheek
a two armed hug and chocolate, for those of us who're weak.
An old movie, too, can aid in healing, one that makes you smile,
with buttered popcorn and jujubees and soda on the aisle.
A brand new pet, a pup or kitten, will work just like a charm
and help to bring our dear ones back from those who did them harm.
And with time and much attention the broken will come to see
there should be no apprehension, for what will be will be.
So, gather up the shattered shards of all those wretched, broken, parts
and greet the new day's sunny face, with your own new sunny heart.
"Why not try living your life for an audience of one?" Gordon Robertson
"Why not try living your life for an audience of one?"
Instead of living to please yourself, why not try
living your life trying please Jesus Christ?
God's only begotten Son.
Instead of going your own way and getting lost
along the way? Why not turning your own
life around completely upside down?
If you are drowning your sorrows,
and/or puffing them up in smoke?
It is because by yourself you can
not cope. You can not survive all by
yourself and on your own. At
least if you the only one to lose is you.
If you want to fly like an eagle without
angels wings? And climbing a mountain
which is way too high. Finding out
much too late you can not fly.
Why let yourself become undone?
When all you have to do is call upon
the name of the Lord Jesus Christ.
All those who call upon the name of the
Lord shall be saved. Call upon the
name of the Lord while he still is
near. Call upon the name of the Lord
while you still are able to to. Come
tomorrow it may be much too late
for you!
You have no guarantee of living
more than one day at a time.
Why waste another minute of your life?
When Jesus Christ is knocking at
your hearts door!
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
May 23, 2020
Life is a brief span; seize tight each passing moment,
For yesterday's pain should reflect in your sight,
To map out your routines after your heart's consent,
Thus, paving a way to banish your plight.
Don't question how others make things right,
Strive, don’t wait your strength is taking flight.
Years for thriving aren't lost, but we miss tracking their way,
Time is fragile, our plans create inner tension each day.
As we continue doubting, our spirits procrastinate;
Blind to precious moments, fear of trying escalates.
Then, it seems that frailty is imposed on dreams,
Creating tension in insight, plans, and themes.
Copyrighted
Bring me reality, spare the insanity; preening and vanity
Do.! Its purpose I’d rather gather not
Twaddle and flatter; For ..!!
Really I’m open of view.’ I don’t want TV Docs
I want info that rocks’
Can I see some groundbreaking news?
Not acres of smiles, subterfuge and all wiles
I’d really like fair enough news,
It’s all panstick and slapstick and soundbites
And asterisks’ not to mention a grimness
That’s part of the brew, it seems the
Devil’s own cauldron is stirred to a fault
On the screens that are owned by a few
Do you think there might be?
Something better to see,
Have you ever thought
That there could be? an antidote to suggestion
Of gloomy dimensions, surely
It might just so be?
Not just medics with millions
With their bosses owning zillions
Who paid for their very degree?
Remember GMO in your food from Monsanto
But I guess; that’s already old
News … a week’s not a long time in your view; or maybe mine?
But in some circles, it’s a vital in-tu; intuition.. Revision in the dark
Winter tradition' ya’ know maybe it’s all doctored views?
Hey no smiling or laughing or back slapping,
Singing or dancing.
Unless you are in on the ruse.
©Joe Maverick 30-1-2022
Every time I pick up a pen to
write a love poem, the ink
oozes blood.
It drifts away to the port of Yangon,
where a loud bang invoked silence.
With bodies now there for show,
A mother with her children—
Their fault: to be born,
Their fault: to hope for freedom.
It reached the camps of Gaza,
Distraught – it tried mixing with
The abundance of blood – The blood never
dries there. Yet, not far off, it has. It has
dried in their veins; only their eyes remain red.
Every time I pick up a pen to
write a love poem, the ink
oozes blood.
It is grey now, slowly turning into the void
— the suffocating nothingness that millions
now endure. They scream, they wallow, they cry
— but their voices are lost in the winds of indifference.
"All we wanted was our basic rights,
was it too much to ask?*"
There was a time when the Ukrainian sky
was not red. When the twinkling lights above
were stars, wished upon as they fell. Now,
they wish for life from something other than
falling stars. The blood is not welcomed
in that territory.
Every time I pick up a pen to
write a love poem, the ink
oozes blood.
* Mahjoob Naurozi, “What happened to the women who took on the Taliban?” (BBC, 15.06.2024)
While you try to become the best version of yourself,
Insecurity infiltrates, an unbeaten foe that embraces confidence,
And you list potential falls before even stepping onto the open road.
Every deed is stitched with the thread of this somber foreboding.
Yet, if you know how each scar quietly whispers to you its own tale,
A story of how much it bled, how much pain there was when it was still a fresh wound.
And which bold paths you have taken toward healing, what battles you had to fight.
It's not easy to step out of the frame of your comfort, from your arches of safety.
But when the stars align, they conspire as if yearning to show you a universe
Where you are meant to shine – accept everything with grace, let chance follow its course.
For if you don't, the print of regrets will be one that will never fade.
To receive the stars and the threads of fate, even when they are entwined,
Even when fears seem swifter than your choices.
Gather all your scars, each a mark placed on the map of your own galaxy.
Leave from yourself a beacon, a lighthouse deep in the unknown to which you inevitably head.
If We Try To Ask Why
It was another plain morning in the mundane business belt
until we felt the day stay still, and we knelt to pray at will.
In the decade since our engrained tranquility was strained,
our prayers have waned, and cooperation was not sustained.
As proof time is trained to be aloof to tears of our grieving,
the babies born to widows, our high schools are now receiving.
And in history books, I fear a new chapter must appear …
Alongside its heavy content, the sheen on serene sheets shall screen
the extent of torment The Event means to they who lament …
Until the day they die, for some, when the autumn sun is high
in the September sky, the past and present run as one:
The scene, never done, repeats; people run; the crowd retreats …
And, where the cloud of carnage meets startled city streets,
the ash painting the panorama underpins
our divine Manhattan skyline mourning her twins …
If we try to ask why, theologians will explain,
when God grants free will, evil may reign, despite its pain.
My theory, one of many but as good as any,
is that the gist of why a sadist’s bloodlust exists
isn’t to be endeared to God, but feared like God.
Some philosophers pry, “Why was the September sky
a nearly perfect hue of select, pastel blue?”
The poets sigh, “… because on this date the land stayed dry
when the cascade of nearby angels refused to cry;
they came to fixate upon the souls they had to elevate,
and through the demure azure, the dead felt peacefully lead …”
If we heed our ancestors’ lead, never letting faith recede,
the wealth of our prayers might impede the stealth of the slayers,
but if we try to ask why, our first task may be to find
ourselves resigned to God sometimes being disinclined
to thwart an evil mastermind within humankind.
E. V. Wyler
26 SLICES OF PEPERONI
1/2 CUP OF FETA
3 CUPS OF COTTAGE CHEESE
1 CUP OF MOZZEROLLI
1 CUP OF PARMASEAN
1 CUP OF CHOPPED ONION
1/4 CUP GARLIC MINCED
1/4 CHOPPED FRESH BASIL
4 TABLESPOONS OF DREID ORGEGANO
2 TABLESPOONS OF CHOPPED ANCHOVIES
5 CUPS OF GROUND BEEF (COOKED BROWNED)
1 ( TO 1 AND A HALF ) QUART(S) OF TOMATO SAUCE
1/4 CUP OF COOKED BACON CRUMBLED
1/2 CUP OF DICED EGGPLANT
1 BOX OF COOKED LASANGE NOODLES
1/2 CUP OF CHOPPED BLACK OLIVES
1 CUP OF DICED MUSHROOMS
GONE DO YOUR THANG, DO THAT WHAT YOU DO MAN, YOUR THANG. COOK THAT STUFF LIKE YOU SU-POSE TOO, MAN !
}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{
1 CUP OF CHOPPED ALMONDS
1 CUP OF CHOPPED RASIANS
1 CUP OF SHREDDED CABBAGE
2 CUPS OF CHOPPED APPLES
1/2 CHOPPED DATES
1/2 CUP OF OLIVE OIL
1/2 CUP OF RED ONIONS
1/2 CUP GREEN PEPPERS
1/2 CUP OF CARROTS
4 TABLESPOONS OF MINCED GARLIC
4 TABLESPOONS OF FISHSTOCK
3/4 CUPS OF HONEY
SAUTE CABBAGE AND ONION UNTIL ONIONS ARE TRANSLUCENT, ADD GARLIC, ADD APPLES AND NUTS, AND THEN ADD RASAINS AND DATES ADDING FISHSTOCK AND HONEY, ALLOW TO COOL.
REDUCE,
1 CUP OF GRAPE JUCIE AND 1 CUP OF WHITE WINE
REDUCE ATO ABOUT 1 AND 1 & 1/4 CUP OF THIS MIXTURE
ADD ABOUT 2/3 CUPS TO MIXTURE
STIRRING,
SPRINKLE TOP WITH ABOUT 3 TABLESPOONS OF REDPEPPER FLAKES
THIS IS THE STUFFING FOR EGGROLLS, MAKE EGGROLLS AND FRY UNTIL GOLDEN BROWN.
IN A BAKING PAN ADD, SAUTED GREEN PEPERS ABOUT 1/2 C, 1 /2 CUP OF SAUTEED ONIONS, AND 5 POUNDS OF SHAVED PORK,
SALTED AND PEPPERED, AND ABOUT 1/2 CUP OF OLIVE OIL, ONCE THE PORK IS COOKED
ADD 1/2 C OF BROWN SUGAR, 1/2 CUP OF REDWINE AND GRAPE JUCIE, 1 TABLESPOON OF GROUND GINGER, 1 TABLESPOON OF CAYENE, 4 TABLESPOONS OF OYSTER SAUCE 1/4 CUP OF GREEN ONION AT THE LAST MINUTE. MAKE A SAUCE AND SERVE WITH EGGROLLS.
I don't mind being your friend
Or even possibly loving you
But don't try to change me
I love being me
I have my own voice
We see things differently
But that's ok
We can co exist and still be us
I'm warning you don't try to change me
If you do I will make a big fuss
You being you and me being me makes us unique
Our differences make up the human race
We can always agree to disagree
This planet is a big rainbow
But we must all strive to unify our world with love
I can love you and still be me
And you can still be you
It's okay to be our individual selves
But love and respect must be a common goal for us all
11-24-16
Alexis Y.
I try to hold the moon,
but it slips through my fingers.
It's beauty is ethereal,
a glow that never seems to dim.
It feels so close—
yet when I reach,
the distance between us reveals itself. Stretching farther.
Just as I believe
I might catch it,
the sun arrives,
and the moon dissolves—
as if it never existed,
as if it were all my imagination.
Once, the moon chased after me,
slow and steady.
But now I chase the moon—
too fast.
It's too far ahead.
I see only the footprints
it leaves behind.
It always wins the race.
And in the end,
I try to hold the moon,
but it slips through my fingers
whenever the sun rises.
For time moves too quickly,
and my youth fades like moonlight at dawn.